Back on the Rooftop
by Red Chucks
Summary: After the kiss on the rooftop Vince enlists the help of the Plan Pony to try and get what he wants but it doesn't go according to plan. Short One-shot.


**This one-shot came about as a result of a badly drawn picture for the Tumblr Boosh Photo Challenge. It can be found here: **** image/85988943041**

**I don't own these characters or the ideas, I just have a disturbed imagination.**

**I'm off to hide now.**

* * *

"I just need a plan. I just need a plan. I just need-"

Vince sat down heavily at his vanity/art desk and stared at his reflection in the mirror. When he'd decided on this particular look for the evening his goal had been to establish himself, once and for all, as the king/queen/gender inclusive monarch of Camden. He hadn't been thinking of Howard when he'd done it, he'd just wanted to look as hot and unobtainable as possible, but now... Now he couldn't stop wondering whether the outfit had been part of what had made Howard fall for him (there was a pun there, just waiting to be acknowledged, but in his morose state Vince missed it completely, leaving it to slink off into the darkness, pouting) or whether it had been the reason Howard had lost interest so quickly.

It wasn't fair. Vince hated thinking, he wasn't built for it, but he couldn't let go of the feelings which had flooded his mind as he fell from the rooftop. He'd been terrified that he was going to die, and more terrified that the last thing he'd done in his life was reject Howard. Again. And he'd realised that loving Howard wouldn't be difficult because he had been doing it for most of his life anyway, and that being loved by Howard, really, properly, bumming-every-night-of-the-week loved, would be genius. When they'd hit the bouncy castle he'd resolved to make it work, to tell Howard that he really did fancy him and that he was ready to join Howard's kingdom of gaydom, even if it included occasionally listening to jazz or learning to appreciate stationary. He'd been so excited and the adrenaline rushing through him from the fall and the bouncing had just increased the feeling of euphoria. When Howard had looked over at him as they both lay on the bouncy castle he'd felt his heart flutter and his groin start to throb and he'd been so ready, he was sure, to admit how he felt.

And then that girl had arrived. Diva. She wasn't supposed to turn up. She'd texted Vince after she'd put up the fliers for the party to say that she didn't really want to go after all, not if it wasn't really Howard's birthday party. She'd made Vince feel like a bit of a prat and he'd been glad she'd decided not to come. And then there she was, butting her nose in and ruining their almost-ready-to-start romance. He'd pretended not to mind that Howard had ditched him so quickly but it had stung like a northern bullet in the kneecap. Vince smiled sadly. When Howard was trying to be mean his insults came out as gentle and bland as natural yoghurt but when he wasn't trying to he could make Vince feel so small and stupid.

He pulled his crayons toward him and a sketch book. He would need help if he was going to pull this off and since he couldn't ask Howard, there was really only one person he could trust.

...

"So that's the whole story," Vince sighed, resting his face on his hand and absently fluffing his hair. "What should I do, Plan Pony? How do I pull Howard?"

The Plan Pony looked thoughtful, scuffing it's boots on the paper as it tried to come up with a plan of attack.

"You need to visualize what you want to happen, Vince," it told him. "I can't tell you how to win Howard back but if you draw what you want to happen and believe hard enough you'll find it within yourself to make this happen."

"What sort of rubbish advice is that?" Vince whined. He'd at least been hoping for a decent pick up line to catch Howard's interest.

"I'm a pony, Vince," the Plan Pony replied drolly. "I can help you with most things but love is beyond the intentions of my illustration."

"Wha?"

The Pony rolled his eyes and Vince frowned. He didn't like being shown up by his own creations and they were wasting valuable Howard wooing time.

"Visualise the future you want with Howard, Vince," the Pony said slowly, waiting for Vince to nod before he continued. "When you can see that clearly you will know what to do. Trust your instincts."

"Alright," Vince scowled, pulling out the twenty-nine crayons he had labeled as 'Howard colours' from his set of two hundred. "But just so you know, you sound like Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The Plan Pony only chuckled but refrained from telling Vince that his secret geekiness was showing.

Vince pulled a clean sheet of paper toward him and started to draw. What did he want to happen? What did he want the future to look like? His future with Howard? It was hard to concentrate when all his brain wanted to think of was the kiss on the roof and the way he'd enjoyed being able to touch Howard so intimately and the way it had made Howard smile and how he really wanted to do it again. Before he registered what he'd done there was a picture in front of him. Him and Howard, back on the roof, but this time Vince, Picture Vince, was savouring it, drinking in the moments with Howard and serious about what he was doing rather than just kissing the most convenient person.

Picture Howard looked a bit creepy but Howard tended to look like that when confronted with affection and Vince thought it was kind of cute. Howard was pretty cute all the time really.

Looking at the picture Vince really did feel more confident. He just needed to be alone with Howard again and he was sure things would work out. The Plan Pony was right and Vince felt a grin spread across his face. He was going to go and prove his love for Howard again, and this time he was really going to mean it.

He grabbed up the picture of himself and Howard and the picture of the Plan Pony and headed back out to the party. Things were winding down now, with only the hardcore partiers (mostly shamen) remaining, and it didn't take Vince long to track down Howard. He heard him before he saw him, back on the roof of all places, but Vince felt his throat tighten painfully when he realised that Howard wasn't just talking to the moon but that he was up on the roof with someone, and that that someone was Diva.

"... I think it's really romantic that you've never gone beyond the kiss," she purred and Vince, sitting with his knees tucked up to his chin on the rickety attic stairs, pulled a face. That was his line.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I really respect that."

"Oh."

Howard didn't sound convinced and Vince hoped that maybe the other man was having second thoughts about ditching Vince for some girl he'd only just met, but then he heard the ruffle of fabric and a sound that was decidedly wet and Howard let out a muffled gasp. He carefully raised his head up to look out of the open window and immediately wished he hadn't. Diva had her hands in Howard's hair and was kissing him fiercely and Howard... Vince couldn't watch anymore. Howard had his hands around Diva's waist and was making the sorts of noises that indicated he was enjoying himself quite a lot.

He lowered himself down the stairs as quietly as he could, which was difficult in his gold boots, and stumbled back toward his bedroom. He hadn't had much to drink but he suddenly felt very drunk, drunk enough that he ran to the bathroom, slammed the door and fell to his knees in front of the toilet. He didn't vomit though. He sobbed instead and as his shoulders began to shake so fiercely that they physically hurt he began to think that vomiting might have been better. He looked down at the two pictures still clutched in his hand and wanted to scream. Of course Howard didn't want him. He wanted an intelligent woman, not a simpleton the mental age of a ten-year-old with the fashion sense of a futuristic prostitute. He'd been an idiot to think it could ever happen and he hated himself for being so naive.

He wanted to rip the picture into tiny pieces and flush it down the loo but he couldn't make his hands do it. Even though he hated that it would never come true he still liked the picture. He didn't want to destroy it, but he didn't want to keep it either. He settled for crumpling it into a tight ball and burying it in the bathroom bin, along with the Plan Pony who complained the whole time about the shoddy treatment but couldn't do much about it. That done, Vince looked at his tear-stained reflection in the mirror and tried to tell himself that it would all be fine. He was the Sunshine Kid and beach balls like him weren't allowed to be sad. He took off his remaining make-up carefully and then crept to his room, discarding his fancy party clothes in favour of his tiny blue pants an ancient Bowie t-shirt. Tomorrow he'd have to work extra hard at seeming unimpressed by Howard and yet supportive of his new relationship at the same time. It would be hard work and he needed his beauty sleep. Perhaps Howard had been right, perhaps parties were a bad idea after all.

...

Howard stumbled to the bathroom, squinting at the weak sunlight that filtered in through the small window. The party had gone on too long and been too loud and just too... too much like a party for Howard to have really enjoyed it. Not that it hadn't had its perks, of course. He'd gone from being a kissing virgin to having kissed two people in one night. Two attractive people at that. Diva had given him her number and asked if he wanted to catch up for dinner during the week but Howard wasn't sure. Something just didn't seem right...

"Psst, Howard? Howard!"

His thoughts were derailed by a faint but insistent voice coming from the bin of all places. Howard knelt by it doubtfully. Surely anything small enough to be inside their bin couldn't be too much of a threat but Howard wasn't really awake enough to deal with an adventure just now.

"Hello?"

"Howard, it's me, the Plan Pony!" came the voice and Howard breathed a sigh of relief. "Help me out, Howard!"

Howard pulled the rumpled piece of paper free and flattened it out on the tiles.

"What were you doing in there?" he asked it, feeling daft for talking to a drawing, even if it was a sentient one. "Did Vince draw you?"

"He sure did, Howard. But I gave him some bad advice and I need to say sorry. I need to tell him I'm sorry so he doesn't feel sad."

Howard's brow creased. He didn't want Vince to be sad but he had never heard of the Plan Pony giving bad advice before.

"What- What happened? Is Vince ok?"

The Pony nodded but didn't seem to want to say much more until Howard gave it a stern look.

"Tell me what happened, Plan Pony. If I need to be looking after Vince today I'd like to know why."

The Pony looked down at its boots and mumbled something but Howard eventually got it out of him.

"I told him to draw what he wanted for the future and to go and get it but it didn't work out."

"Oh." Howard tried to think of what Vince might want for the future beyond clothes and new hair straighteners and drew a blank. What could Vince possibly want that he hadn't been able to get?

"Plan Pony," he said slowly keeping a close eye on the drawing. "The drawing Vince did, of what he wants, did he throw it away when he threw you away by any chance?"

The Pony brayed nervously but that was enough for Howard. Trying not to think about what might be in their bathroom bin after a party like the one they'd had last night he sifted through the rubbish until he found another piece of paper like the one the Plan Pony had been drawn on. It had been scrunched into a tight ball and he unfolded it very carefully before laying it flat on the bathroom floor and finally taking a proper look.

"Oh."

Vince wanted...

"Oh."

Howard picked up the drawing carefully and moved towards the door, walking like a man embarking on a dangerous but very rewarding mission. From the floor the Plan Pony smirked. He knew that Howard wouldn't be hard to convince. They didn't call him the Plan Pony for nothing. He vaguely heard the sound of a door opening and a groggy voice mumble, "Howard?"

Before long the mumble had turned into a moan and the Pony's smirk widened. Job done, he wandered out of his page and into the place where sentient crayon drawing go when they're in need of a good breakfast.


End file.
